Chapter 20

Tomas and Dr. Oak guide me toward the examination table with the same casual efficiency they’d use moving a mare into position. My legs move automatically—the conditioning taking over—even as my mind screams resistance. The leather surface is cold against my thighs as they position me, spreading my legs wide and securing my ankles in the stirrups.

My breasts hang heavy now, noticeably fuller than they were ten minutes ago. The bells chime with each breath, and there’s a deep, insistent pressure building behind my nipples that makes every movement uncomfortable.

“Legs wider,” Oak instructs, pushing my knees apart with clinical indifference. “I need full access for proper examination.”

The position leaves me utterly exposed. The harness strap between my legs does nothing to hide my arousal—the pony fruit has seen to that. My inner thighs glisten. I can feel wetness running down toward the table.

And I need to piss. Oh god, I need to—

Oak selects the speculum from his instrument tray and applies a generous amount of lubricant. “This will be uncomfortable but not damaging,” he announces to no one in particular. “I’m documenting baseline genital condition pre-piercing and verifying pony fruit metabolization.”